


something that should have always been

by tangerine_skye



Category: The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows - Stiles/Drewe/Grahame
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gentle Kissing, M/M, i love these adorable domestic husbands, the cutest of friends oh my goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerine_skye/pseuds/tangerine_skye
Summary: It is the kind of quiet that settles on the closest of friends. A quiet that indicates the enjoyment of company, an understanding that there is nowhere else this pair would rather be than in this moment, quietly knowing the other is there with them.(based on the musical version so they're more human-ish)
Relationships: Mole/Rat (Wind in the Willows)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	something that should have always been

It begins as a curiosity. The gentle ripples of the river reflecting in the gentle eyes of the one who calls it home. When Ratty smiles at him for the first time, Mole feels as though something in his world rights itself. When Ratty helps him into the boat, he supposes he has never been quite so delighted before, terrified and exhilarated in good measure.

Ratty makes it so easy and Mole realises that he never wants it to end.

And so it doesn’t.

Together they fall into a rhythm. Staying with Ratty for one night turns into two, then three, and soon enough, it becomes forever. Mole grows accustomed to the dampness that exudes from the ground so close to the river and the whistle of the wind that teases the reeds across the water. The constant light which felt blinding at first to one who has lived underground for so long, becomes something Mole looks forward to, opening the curtains to greet the sun with a cheerful smile every morning.

The house becomes familiar to Mole, comfortable, homely, _theirs_.

They settle into this domestic life with a seamless transition. In the morning they enjoy the wonders of the river, catching food, visiting friends. At night they sit around the fireplace with warm drinks cupped in their hands and contented smiles on their faces.

“Is it strange?” Mole asks one night as they sit there together. A blanket is thrown over his lap, the chill of winter tapping at the windows with frostbitten fingers. His cheeks are flushed warm from the fire and the flames glint off his glasses, a flash of gold.

“Is what strange?” Ratty asks.

Mole nods at him.

“This,” he says, “Us.”

Ratty shrugs. Hs fingers tap against his mug, peeking out from knitted gloves. Mole made the gloves for him two seasons past, and Ratty has been wearing them since. There is a hole wearing away near his thumb and some of the threads have come loose.

“No, why? Should it be?” Ratty says.

Mole wrinkles his nose and takes a sip of his drink. It warms him further and seems to settle pleasantly in his chest.

“I’m not sure,” he says, “I have never seen a mole living with a rat before.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Ratty says with a soft laugh, “A toad dressed as a washerwoman stealing a motorcar for one.”

Mole chuckles.

“You’re right,” he says and lapses into a silence of contentment. It is the kind of quiet that falls on the closest of friends. A quiet that indicates the enjoyment of company, an understanding that there is nowhere else this pair would rather be than in this moment, quietly knowing the other is there with them.

Mole places his mug on the side table and returns to the book he has been reading, an old dusty tome he recently found stuffed underneath a rickety shelf to keep it balanced. Mole had carefully removed the book and replaced it instead with a short plank of wood for stability.

It sits on his lap now, yellow-rimmed pages open as Mole thumbs through it curiously. Ratty watches him for a while, Mole can feel his gaze. Eventually he looks up, meeting his eyes.

“What is it Ratty?”

“I was just watching.”

“Watching me read?” Mole squints through his glasses. “I can’t imagine that’s remarkably interesting.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Mole feels his cheeks flush and Ratty smiles, a small, pleased motion that tilts his lips upwards.

“You do say the most ridiculous things sometimes,” Mole scoffs as he looks away, embarrassed. Ratty hums in an appreciative way. He reaches out and covers Mole’s hand with his own, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin.

Mole looks at their hands and blinks. He slowly turns his hand over, palms splayed together, as he presses Ratty’s hand with a gentle squeeze. Their eyes meet, and Ratty grins all sharp eyes and sharp teeth. Mole feels a tug of affection near his heart, a sense that somehow, despite whatever strangeness this entails, it is right.

“I am glad you’re here with me,” Ratty says. It is so open and honest, and it sends Mole reeling, his heart tripping over itself like a newborn rabbit finding its legs.

“Me too,” he replies, with a quirk of his lips.

Ratty seems to consider something for a moment. A flicker of a question passes across his face, but then fades almost as soon as it appears, chased away by something akin to resolve. He must find the answer he needs.

With a smile, he leans forward and kisses Mole. 

It is simultaneously the most surprising and least surprising thing Mole expects. Somehow, it feels as though this is something that should have always been, and perhaps it is, a final piece of a puzzle slotting into its rightful place.

Mole sighs, an exhalation of tension he had not even realised he was holding. He tightens his grip on Ratty’s hand and leans into the affection, closing his eyes. Ratty draws his other hand to curl against Mole’s shoulder, gloved fingers holding him close.

When he pulls away, he only moves back a fraction of a breath. It is enough for him to look at Mole, and Mole looks back at him, all wide-eyed tenderness and exhilaration.

This close, Mole can see the faint scar across his jaw, a set of smooth, discoloured skin. Ratty had explained it once, a boating accident from when he was younger. Mole had thought that if it had been himself in a boating accident, he certainly would not be as hasty as Ratty to return to the water.

“Moley, my dear,” Ratty sighs, pressing their foreheads together, “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“I am glad you didn’t wait any longer,” Mole replies. Ratty laughs, a puff of air caught between them and kisses Mole again, this time on his forehead with a soft touch of lips. He pulls away and settles into a comfortable position beside him, legs pressed together, an arm around his shoulders.

They sit there, holding each other by the warmth of the fire, the rug tossed over their laps. The flames flicker and spark, casting long shadows across the walls. An owl calls somewhere outside, searching for a friend, as the dusty book Mole had been reading falls to the floor, forgotten, and discarded once again.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my goodness I have fallen completely in love with this musical and these two! I literally cannot stop listening to the soundtrack and I hope other people feel the same way about these cuties as I do because I would love to have people yell at me about how much they adore them too ;;

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dulce Domum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699163) by [Catsafari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsafari/pseuds/Catsafari)




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